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Johnny-Jump-Ups nestle into the forest floor mosses,
Along with dainty Jack-in-the-Pulpits hiding beneath
The larger fronds of swampy ferns soaking up moisture
From the dew-laden flowering branches of laurel
Where I find myself dreaming in the verdant woodland,
Edging the meadow beyond the cluttered beaver stand.

A canopy of vine-entangled branches, a vault-like nave,
Provides a sanctuary of sacred candles dimmed for mass
A pew-less haven for wounded souls, and tiny chipmunks,
Who scurry to find isolated spots for quiet meditation 
While grebes and gallinules make up the choir ensemble;
A purple swamphen takes up the guttural baritone line.

The late morning is mine, sitting along the narrow trail
In a cross-legged yoga pose with arms across my knees,
Soaking up the faint sweet smells of sassafras and pine
And slipping into what I sometimes call my “blue funk”
Where nothing on earth matters outside this quiet shelter,
Dozing softly, I dream of a utopian sweet, elusive peace.  

FIRST PLACE WINNER (TROPHY)
June 25, 2022
Submitted to: "Poetry Marathon Mile 5" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney

Written on June 3, 2021
Selected for FEATURED POEM
On the front page of All Poetry,
September 13, 2021   

GOLD MEDAL WINNER
"5 Golds or Less - Profanisaurus" Poetry Contest
All Poetry, December 11, 2021

Appeared in "It's Still Poetry"
Poetry Soup Anthology - 2021
CreateSpace, Amazon publication

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